As I shared the details of a recent conversation with an acquaintance, on my Facebook page recently and was both pleased and surprised and the attention it garnered.
On hindsight however, I wondered, why is it that we, with all of our intelligence and knowledge, us of the highest order of development, fail to realise that no where else in the natural world is there a definition of ‘less than perfect’.
Every morning, as I walk among the beautiful, gorgeous surroundings of the botanical gardens, I feel the congruence of nature in the presence of the trees. Whether oak or cherry blossom, centuries old gingko biloba or the young acer yearlings – none seem to be in competition with the other for perfection. They all seem to strive in equanimity to support and enhance each other.
The flowers are even more wondrous. As the days passed from the chill of the winter air, to the freshness of spring, snow drops visited and then moved on, followed by daffodils, of all varieties. Then buttercups have sprung up amidst the long-expired daffodils, yet reminders of their fleeting beauty (dried up flower stalks and long thin leaves) still there for all to see.
These days, the bluebells are just finally opening up, as tulips join them in their natural dance. None are any less beautiful or wonderful. None are any less perfect.
Why then, do we, strive so hard to believe in the perfection of a human ‘look’? Tall or short, light skinned or dark, blond, black, mousy brown or carrot red hair, brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes…no matter what we look like, fat or slim, pear-shaped, apple shaped, thin calves, wide ankles, large thighs – what does it matter what our external features present, except to know and believe that we are, as we are.
And that in this state of being, however or whatever you perceive yourself to be, the reality is that you are gorgeously, beautifully, originally, wonderfully perfect, exactly as you are. Your perfectly imperfect self.
An acquaintance I met yesterday, all smiles, said, “Hey, have you lost weight? You look really good.”
“No,” I said, not quite sure what to make of it, “I don’t think so, but I really don’t know.”
As weird as it sounds, it’s immensely funny from my point of view, I’ve not weighed myself properly in several years. I only know if my weight fluctuates, by how tight my jeans are.
If they get too tight – time to get new ones, or vice versa.
There are no scales in my home.
Food wise, nothing is off limits, except to totally and completely enjoy what we eat, in moderate portions and have fruit every day (not necessarily 5 portions – that was made up by fruit farmers in America to sell more fruit).
I guess what I’m trying to say is, you know… you’re beautiful, whatever your weight may be.
And if you would for one minute, decide not to focus on that number on the scales, but focus on the fact that you have an amazing body that just knows exactly what it needs and requires and trust it and trust all the wonderful tastes and smells of beautiful, amazing food – you might find that life is pretty wonderful whatever your weight may be.